


Imagine being told you could never get pregnant

by imagineyourepregnant



Category: Original Work
Genre: Birth Fetish, Fpreg, Gen, Hyperpregnancy, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Unplanned Pregnancy, expansion, labor fetish, multiples pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineyourepregnant/pseuds/imagineyourepregnant





	Imagine being told you could never get pregnant

Imagine you’re a young woman who was told she could never get pregnant. You’re not too bothered, because you don’t want children and are scared of giving birth. Consequently you’re not too careful with using protection.

One morning you start throwing up, and your boobs are sore. You just think you have good poisoning, and brush it off. Instead over several weeks it doesn’t go away, and you start gaining weight. Finally you see a doctor. He tells you you’re pregnant, but he doubts you can carry the baby full term.

You know you don’t want to have a baby, and consider having an abortion. Instead though the doctor seems sure you will have a miscarriage so you decide to see what happens.

A few weeks later though you’re still pregnant. Miserable, you go back to the doctor. He tells you you’re too far along for termination, and that you’re having triplets.

You are terrified, and have no idea what you’re going to do. You don’t have much money, and little support. You haven’t told anyone you’re pregnant because you thought it would go away. You decide to try to hide it as long as you can.

However your rapidly growing body quickly becomes hard to hide. Your breasts have grown three cup sizes, none of your old clothes fit, and your belly looks bigger every day. By six months in you look full term because of the multiples.

Your emotions are crazy, you’re horny all the time, you can’t stop eating, and your back hurts all the time. But at least the nausea has abated.

You continue your menial desk job right up till the end, because you need all the money you can get. The doctor told you you wouldn’t make it full term, and from around seven months you keep thinking you might soon give birth, but miraculously you make it to nine months.

Your belly is ginormous, and makes it hard to sit at a desk. It sticks out from whatever shirts you can fit in to. Angry red stretch marks crowd your skin. Your milk comes in, and your breasts get even more swollen, and even start leaking. Everyone at work asks who the father is, but you don’t know and start to cry.

At the end of nine months you start having minor contractions, but they are just Braxton Hicks and you stay pregnant. All you want at this point is the babies out of you. They are so active, kicking against your ribs, you’re worried they will bruise you from the inside. all you can think of is getting them out.

You decide you will have a home birth, to save money.

Two weeks overdue you’re at work and you’re miserable. You can barely walk, you’re so heavy. You’re achy and sweaty, and the Braxton Hicks are getting stronger. Maybe it’s not Braxton Hicks you think, as the pressure on your cervix gets stronger. You just hope you can make it to the end of your shift when your water breaks, all over your swivel chair. They send you away, thinking you’re going to the hospital. Instead you take the bus home, because there is no way you can fit in a car. The other passengers are worried about you, as you moan and grunt through contractions, tears running down your face.

Finally you get to your stop, as you start to feel the need to push. You’re desperate to get back home, and not give birth on the sidewalk. You waddle home, crying out, holding your belly with both hands. You stumble with the lock, almost unable to stand anymore.

You get inside, shut the door, and collapse in the floor. You are still in your clothes, and it’s all you can do to get your underwear off between contractions. There’s almost no time between them anymore, and you start pushing with all your might. You can feel the first baby in your birth canal, and hope the birth will happen as quickly as the lead-up.

Instead you push for almost two hours, making slow progress. You’re yelling so loudly you’re sure the neighbors will call 911. But no one comes and you’re alone. Milk and sweat have completely soaked your shirt, fluids are leaking out of your nether region, and you’re starting to get really tired. But you know you’ll have to do this three times.

Finally the first child starts to crown. You can already feel the next child pressing against your cervix. You strain, your face beet red, as the contractions are on top of each other.

After several agonising minutes, the child erupts out of you in a rush of fluids. It’s a boy, and he starts to cry immediately. You have no idea what to do with the child, having no maternal instincts. You’re still not even sure if you will keep him. And you’re still pregnant with two more. Your stomach looks no smaller, and you still churn mildly with contractions.

Having a little respite from pushing, you decide to have the rest in the bathtub. You carry the babe in, and lay him on the floor on a towel. Then you take off your sticky clothes, and get in the tub with the shower steam on gently. The water carries away the filth on your skin, feeling good for the first time in hours.

It’s not long before the contractions ramp up again, and you feel the need to push. This baby comes out of you much easier, and you hope the last one will be the same. It’s a girl, and you place her on the floor near her brother, then both crying.

You notice your stomach still looks huge, and there’s still a lot of movement in there. Too much movement for just one baby. Your heart drops when you realize the doctor must have missed one in the ultrasound. But you don’t have much time to think about it as the third one comes hard and fast.

This one is much larger than the others, and you struggle to find the strength to push it out. Your voice is hoarse from yelling, and tears are streaming down your face. You lean forward, and push with all your might, but the baby won’t budge. It gets stuck at a crown, unable to make any progress.

“Oh no oh no oh no oh no,” you start to chant, worried you’re really in trouble. Why did you think you could do this on your own? But you can’t move, can’t go anywhere, lest to your phone down the hall. The water continues to carry away the blood that’s started to come out of you, and the milk that’s pouring out of your nipples.

Finally you gather your strength and push harder than you ever thought possible, and the head comes out. But then you get stuck around the shoulders. You cry even more, and pray to every god you’ve ever heard of. You think this might be it.

At last though you tear a little, and the baby comes out. It’s huge like you thought, and a boy. You place him next to his siblings, and rub your belly, breathing hard.

You feel your stomach, and how huge it still looks. You definitely look like someone still pregnant with multiples. You start to panic. Just how many are there? The babies kick at you harder than ever, eager to get out.

You don’t have much respite before the next one comes out. It’s slightly smaller than the last, and comes quickly. It’s another girl, and you place her on the floor next to the other three.

At this point you’re exhausted, about to pass out. But the contractions begin again. You pray this is the last one. It’s small like the one before, but you’re too tired to push, and let your body do the work. You push your hands on your stomach to push the baby out, but it takes forever. Finally, another girl comes out.

Your stomach is finally flat, or flattish considering the pregnancy. The babies are all on the floor crying, and you hold them all one by one up to your sore nipples, feeding them as you resign yourself to this life. Soon after you pass out.


End file.
